


Disenchanted

by Kisshufan4ever



Series: Oracion seis/crime sorciere week [2]
Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Crime Sorciere/Oracion Seis Week 2020
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:02:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26979280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kisshufan4ever/pseuds/Kisshufan4ever
Summary: Erik and Macbeth have a really bad time after been captured by a rouge member of the council.Crime sorciere/ oracion seis week day 2.
Series: Oracion seis/crime sorciere week [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1966486
Comments: 9
Kudos: 7
Collections: Crime Sorciere/Oracion Seis Week, Crime Sorciere/Oracion Seis Week 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone day two I wasn't able to complete the story in time but heres the first chapter hope you enjoy. 😊 let me know if i need to tag anything or any mistakes it's just hit midnight here ironically and I need sleep. 😂

Erik had no idea where the council was dragging him, but it was in the opposite direction to where he’d seen Sawyer and Sorano be hauled off to. By the look of the ramshackle building, the place that he was being taken to was no ordinary prison.

He had no clue where in Fiore the building was even located as he had passed out due to a combination of motion sickness and injuries mid-journey. But, by that fact alone, Erik was pretty certain that it was far from the prison he’d last ended up in.

Presently, his magic was bound by annoyingly tight cuffs and he was being dragged like a disobedient dog towards the building.

He didn’t have long to try and figure out more of his surroundings before a blindfold was unceremoniously thrown over his eyes. (Which was really unnecessary seeing as he could only see out of one anyway.)

After an eternity, they had seemingly reached their destination as the blindfold was yanked off and he was shoved into a poorly lit cell. The sight brought back memories that he’d rather not think about.

Taking in a deep breath, he attempted to flip off his captures, only to receive a door slamming in his face for his efforts. 

Making himself as comfortable as he could, he took in his new surroundings. A small barred window barely illuminated the room. There was no bed or, well, anything except for his apparent cellmate who he could just about make out in the dim lighting. By squinting his one good eye, he could just about make out the details of the man slumped in the corner.

Dual toned hair and the remnants of dark make-up meant that it could only be one person, Macbeth.

He seemed to have taken quite the beating from the so-called Salamander of Fairy Tail. Erik shuffled closer to get a better look at the man’s dishevelled appearance.

His hair was mattered with dry blood in places, and even though he was slouched forward, Erik could still make out the numerous cuts and bruises that peaked out from under his ruined clothing. To say that Erik was pissed about the poor condition of his guild mate was an understatement. He hadn’t seen Macbeth in this state in a long, long time.

He decided that, even though it would probably get him killed, Erik needed to try and wake the illusionist up.

Firstly, two minds were better than one when it came to escape plans and Macbeth had all ready managed to break them out once already. (Erik still didn’t know exactly how.) And second, if Macbeth had a concussion then it was probably bad for him to be asleep. Not that Erik was sure on that fact, it was very rare that any member of the Seis was injured to that extent. Plus, Richard was normally the one who dealt with most injuries, and the bastard had the cheek to charge them for it.

Sighing and mentally plotting out his goodbyes, Erik held his breath and tentatively reached his arm out to shake the smaller mage.  
It took a few shakes before the man let out a small groan. Hazy red eyes met purple as the illusion mage came to.

“Erik?” He muttered.

Well now Erik was even more concerned. They hadn’t called each other anything but their code names out loud in years. And Macbeth was more of a stickler for the rules than any of them, lest he displeased his ‘father’, not that Brain had ever seen any of them as children. But, well, he needed to have that discussion with the mage another time.

“You ok Mid?” He asked tentatively. Macbeth had never reacted positively to anyone insinuating that he could be in anything but perfect condition.

He’d once seen the man fight with a 40°c fever and win, only to promptly collapse as soon as he'd got back to the guild Hall. Lucky for him, Brain was out that week and with all of their combined efforts they had managed to get his temperature down before their leader had returned. 

“Hurts.” Macbeth whimpered, honest to God whimpered. Erik was straight up ready to kill something when he heard the pain in the mage’s voice. 

The sound had thrown his thoughts back to the tower with his friend curled up in a ball sobbing at whatever punishment the guards had inflicted on them that day.

The illusion mage had been so scrawny back then and had a hell of a time completing any of the tasks that the guards had set out for them. He’d probably been to the punishment room more than any of them, and each time he refused to tell anyone what had happened in there.

Erik was snapped back to the present when the iron door to their cell was creaked open.  
“Ah good, you're finally awake Wraith.” A strange man stated as he lounged against the door.  
Erik could see Macbeth tense out of the corner of his eye. 

“Who the fuck is Wraith?” Erik snarled, preparing to lunge at the intruder.

Completely skimming over the bristling slayer, their captor’s eyes locked onto Macbeth’s frozen form. 

“You gonna stay on the floor forever Wraith?”  
Erik wanted to rip the smirk off his face. To his horror though, Macbeth slowly stood up.  
“What the hell Mid?” The slayer exclaimed, trying to figure out the situation and cursing his lack of hearing magic.

“Come, let's get those wounds looked at.”  
And like an obedient puppy Macbeth stumbled his way out of the cell.

Erik was too much in shock to even think of making a break for the exit. By the time that he realised he should make a run for it, the door was once again slammed shut. Silence fell over the room. This left Erik to contemplate what the hell had just happened between his teammate and their captor.

He was unaware of how much time had passed before the door once again opened. There was two guards this time however, and Erik was not going down without a fight.

Lashing out fast enough to make Sawyer proud, he took down the first unsuspecting enemy easily. Whipping around to take down the second, he unfortunately missed the approach of the 3rd guard. This one was wielding one of the goddamn electric staffs that most prison guards appeared to favour.

“Shit” was all that he had the time to mumble before the onslaught of electricity assaulted his body. He was not proud of the fact that he blacked out.

Muttering curses, Erik slowly regained his senses. Even as he recovered some of his functionality, he continued to twitch with the after effects of the shocks. The first thing that he registered clearly was that he had been strapped to a table in a ridiculously bright room. He could just about move his head around the room, taking in the bland surroundings. His examination was cut short by a male voice coming closer.

“Welcome back to consciousness Cobra or should I say Erik?” It was the smug guard from before. 

“Where’s Midnight you bastard?” Eric growled.  
“ I don’t know who you're talking about Erik” The man continues to smirk.

“You know damn well who I mean asshole, say my name one more time, I dare you.” Erik could only assume that Macbeth had told the man his real name, and he was really not pleased by the shit stain before him uttering it.

“Or what Erik?" The man leaned in, forehead almost touching Erik's. Erik went in for a headbutt but the guard leapt back just in time. His captor laughed at this small act of defiance.  
“Ahh, I remember when you were this feisty Wraith. We managed to knock that out of you quick enough.” 

Following the man’s gaze, Erik's sight fell upon Macbeth’s form. He wasn’t even aware that another person had entered the small room, let alone noticed that it was his friend. 

At first glance nothing seemed inherently wrong with the illusion mage. Erik was just about to lose it at his friend's betrayal until he took in the smaller details of the other man's countenance.  
The first obvious clue that something wasn’t quite right was the distinct lack of any makeup. Erik couldn’t even remember the last time that the illusion mage didn’t have some form of cosmetics plastered on his face. 

The second hint was less obvious and required a bit more squinting to see. The white portion of his hair wasn’t in its usual braid. Presumably, the guards had taken the purple beads that had usually adorned it, leaving Macbeth unable to complete his usual look.

Despite how worrisome these signs were, the third was the undoubtedly the worst. Macbeth looked so blank, there wasn’t a hint of recognition or even emotion in his ruby eyes. Even when Brain had been puppeteering him, he’d still had a spark of something. Whether that be from malice or joy, he'd still seemed so much more alive than the empty shell that stood before him.

“What did you bastards do to him?!" Erik's shock was rapidly becoming murderous.  
The man who he assumed was the ringleader of whatever the hell this was approached Macbeth.

“You did so well, didn’t you Wraith." The leader said with his ever present gloating expression. He even had the audacity to lean on Macbeth’s shoulder as he delivered his monologue. Erik wanted to rip the man’s arm off for daring to lay a hand on his precious friend. 

“Well you see Erik, when your former master so rudely left the council some of his research managed to escape due to that dreadful explosion caused by the brat.” The sickly tone in which he regaled these facts dialled Erik’s anger all the way up to 11. 

“He left us with some fascinating research you know, such as the inner workings of how mind control magic works. And, well, you and your friend here were already susceptible to it. I suppose that being groomed for it from a young age has that effect.” The fake pity in his eyes and the way that one of his hands was currently running through Macbeth’s hair was going to cause Erik to pop several blood vessels as he strained at the bonds that shackled him.

“So you see, it would be crazy to pass up this opportunity to use such unique magic. It would be absolutely ludicrous of us to not take this chance. Of course, we’ve been tracking you for years, but imagine our delight when you finally wound up in our prison.” The man gestured wildly with one hand, the other still had a grip on the illusion mage. 

“It was such a pity that we could only nab one of you the first time around.” He sighed wistfully and Erik’s terror slowly surpassed his anger the more the man talked.

“But Wraith here did such a great job at faking your escape, I’m so proud of him.” The psycho literally patted the shorter mage on the head, causing Macbeth to light up at the praise, like a kid on Christmas day. 

“Did you really not question how he snuck a doll into a heavily warded prison without anyone noticing? Where he even learned said magic never crossed any of your minds? I’m not going to say that it wasn’t a needlessly complicated plan but everyone needs some showmanship every once in a while, am I right? I thought the whole Brain Two stick was a bit of an over kill but it served its purpose in the end.”  
Erik was going to make sure this asshole’s death was slow and painful.

“Getting something off Zero was such a nightmare, you don’t even understand. Even I don’t know how the lackeys managed it in the end. Plus we also had your hearing magic to contend with, poor Wraith must be extra tired from keeping so much extra magic going at once to deflect your abilities. At least it all paid off in the end. We managed to get our second most wanted out of the Seis bunch, and proved that the method works. Wraith’s still loyal to us even after being with you monsters for the last three years.” He looked like a proud parent when he declared this.

“Do you ever shut up?” Erik questioned, trying to quell the panic at the thought that everything the Seis had done over the last few years was apparently a test run for some crazy scientist’s scheme. Not to mention that none of the ex-Seis had any idea that one of their own was a double agent.

“Aww, I thought that you’d love to hear all the graphic details about how we managed to break your friend here. Honestly, he was so uncooperative. It took us an embarrassingly long time to figure out that all we needed to do was find a Brain stand-in to have a go at him for a few weeks. His torture methods were so uncouth, we were cleaning blood off the floor for weeks. At least Macbeth was so much more compliant afterwards.”

Erik desperately wanted to cry. Macbeth had fought so hard for his freedom and none of the ex-Seis had even known what he had been going through when he had finally succumbed to a group of monsters.

“Unfortunately, we have to try new exciting methods with you, seeing as Brain already tried to kill you once. And, well, you probably wouldn’t fall for our stand-in anyway. You seem to be a little less reliant on the idea of winning daddy's love than dear old Wraith was.” Tapping a finger to his chin, the man observed Erik like he was some sort of science exhibit. 

“I’m also assuming you have a higher initial pain tolerance than Wraith here." 

“Why the fuck do you keep calling him that?” Erik ground out.

“Oh, you don’t like it? I find it quite fitting as he’s our little ghost slipping in and out of target’s homes without them ever knowing that he was even there. I’m honestly quite proud of it, we had such a difficult brainstorming session trying to pick a good moniker.” The bastard was getting more insufferable by the minute.  
“ Hmm, I suppose you wouldn’t join us even if I asked nicely? I mean, we already have one of your ex-guild mates.” Erik half expected him to bat his eyelids to reinforce this weird attempt at persuasion .

“In your dreams.” He snarked, eyes trained on the hand that was still ruffling Macbeth’s hair.

“Oh, I have such a wonderful idea. Seeing as you're so attached to little Wraith here, why don’t we let him take your place?” He clapped his hands together like an excited toddler.  
“Leave Macbeth out of this" The poison dragon slayer was so enraged that he didn’t notice the slip-up.

“Aww, you're finally on real name basis, that’s cute.” The freak drawled, as if Erik hadn’t known Macbeth’s really name since they were kids.  
“You know, I just hate hurting him, he’s such a good pet. But needs must I suppose.” With barely a moment of hesitation the bastard proceeded to back-hand Macbeth to the floor.  
“Don’t fucking touch him!" Erik was tugging so hard at the restraints that they were slicing into his arms.

“This is his fault Wraith remember that.” He started heaving the prone mage up by the hair. To Erik’s horror, Macbeth just accepted this fate. The Macbeth that he knew would not have let this happen, the bastard would have been sliced up into itty bitty condescending pieces by the time that Macbeth would have been through with him.

Erik could only gaze on in horror as he witnessed his best friend be hefted around like a rag doll.

“So Erik, are you going to behave?” The statement was accompanied by the man further yanking on the illusion mage’s hair. One of the other guards appeared in the room and handed him the magic staff that had electrocuted Erik earlier.

Without mercy, Macbeth was thrown to the floor as the leader let the electricity fly. Erik was too much of a coward to watch, the screaming was bad enough.

Erik didn’t have much of a choice, he couldn’t let the injured mage be hurt further because of him. However, there was no way in hell that he wanted to go through whatever brain washing Macbeth had been through. Putting thought into his answer, Erik made his choice.

“Yes," he mumbled reluctantly.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.” 

Erik inhaled deeply through his nose. Do it for Macbeth. He surrendered what little pride he had left to announce, “Fine I'll behave, just let him go.” 

“That’s the spirit.” The leader stated, finally letting go of the staff and handing it back to the guard in the process.

“I knew you’d come round eventually Erik.” He said, gesturing to the guards to come grab him.  
Hauled back on his feet with hands chained in front of him, Erik glared at the man. He wanted so desperately to fight the two men holding him off, but the thought of seeing Macbeth convulsing on the floor again paralysed him.  
“Don’t look so angry Erik. Soon this will all be a distant memory.”

Erik desperately didn’t want to lose himself to whatever games this man was playing with them. Just for now, he needed to play along for both their sakes.

The guards started pulling him in the direction of a different yet equally small, sterile room. Placing him down on a chair in the centre of the room, the guards firmly attached the straps around him

Left to his own devices, Erik wondered how the hell he was going to get both of them out of this situation. One of the guards came back carrying a small tray of food and water.  
He hadn't even realised how hungry he was until that moment.

“Boss said that if you behave we can untie one of your hands so you can eat.” 

“What happens if I don’t?” He couldn’t help asking.

“We force feed you and the boss will hurt your friend.” The guard seemed utterly bored by the conversation.

Weighing up his options, Erik decided that he couldn’t cause much havoc with just on hand free. Plus, he didn’t know where exactly the other man had taken Macbeth.

“Fine.” He sighed as the guard freed his hand. After his meal was eaten and water finished, Erik began feel boredom creeping up on him.  
It was at this point that the leader finally entered, Macbeth in tow.

“Well I’m glad to see you that behaved Erik,” He smiled. “I suppose we’ve put the rest of this nasty business off by getting you to cooperate.” The man sighs.

“Wraith, be a dear and wait outside for me.”  
The poison dragon slayer couldn’t let his friend leave just yet.

“Wait! Let me talk to Macbeth first.” Erik yelled.

“You’re not exactly in a position to be making  
demands now, are you Erik?”

If this was potentially the last time that Erik was going to able to talk to Macbeth as himself, he’d be stupid not to at least try to get through to him.

Their captor ruminated about Erik's request for a moment that clearly served as a power trip to inflate his massive ego.

“I suppose I’ll allow it, go on in Wraith.” He motioned for Macbeth to enter the room before stepping outside.

“I’m so sorry Mid. We all knew that something was off, but we were all so angry at being imprisoned that we didn’t even try and figure out what was wrong with you. We only cared about ourselves. We all... I failed you.” Hanging his head Erik couldn’t bear looking at the illusionist.

“Its not your fault Erik" 

His head snapped up at the barely audible whisper. A spark of life was trying to win a war against the dullness in Macbeth's eyes, giving Erik a jolt of hope that maybe Macbeth wasn’t all gone.

“Macbeth.” The name was uttered like a prayer.

“I’m here, not for long but I’m here.”  
God, he had missed that awkward little half smile of Macbeth’s.

“If you untie me, we can bust out of here!” The slayer exclaimed, already plotting how to slaughter everyone in the building, but the thin thread of hope was promptly snapped by Macbeth’s next sentence.

“I can’t Erik.” The mage looked so heartbroken that Erik was about ready to fight everyone with the chair still attached to him.

“Why?” Erik demanded, not liking the way that the smaller mage flinched at his raised voice.  
“I’m only just holding on Erin. Even if I managed to release you without him noticing, I’d be the one slamming you back in that chair as soon as they realised you were loose, and I can’t do that. They’d make me hurt you Erik I can’t...” His sentence trailed off as what was left of Macbeth’s consciousness slipped away from him.

Erik had been stabbed, burnt, etc, multiple times, yet he didn’t think that any of those wounds had hurt more then seeing the facade of his best friend return.

“Wasn’t that touching.” The asshole had the nerve to wipe a fake tear from his eye to accompany the false emotion in his statement.

“I’m going to rip you to shreds! Erik hollered, nearly ripping the bolted chair clear off the floor.

“Ah ah ah Erik, you promised to behave.” The man tutted whilst checking that Erik was still firmly secured.

“Fuck that!” He howled as the straps cut even more deep grooves into his arms to match the set from the previous room. Erik didn’t even care about the bloody mess they made on his arms, he was needed to tear this man’s throat out immediately.

“Do you need me to bring Macbeth back in here to remind you of what’s going to happen if you don’t behave Erik?” 

He didn’t know if it was the threat or the fact that it was the first time the man had actually utilised Macbeth’s real name that made him freeze, but it was just enough time for the man to continue on.

“I suppose we should get this show on the road.” He commented, adjusting his ridiculously clean white gloves. 

“Don’t worry this will only hurt a lot."  
There wasn’t enough time for Erik to unpack that sentence before the room was lit up with a magic circle.

“Any last words Erik?” 

“Fuck you.” Erik hissed.

“Charming as ever.” The man shook his head.  
Erik’s world was overwhelmed by excruciating pain.

It felt as if every cell in his body was being torn apart one by one. He had lost the ability to think clearly during it. All he could feel was an onslaught of among from the hellish spell that the mage was casting on him.

He wondered if this was what Macbeth had also gone through all those years ago. In the last lingering remnant of his sanity he heard...

“Cobra its gonna be ok, just let go."  
Standing there with a grin plastered on his face was Midnight. 

“Mid what’s happening?” He chocked out.

“You were injured remember?” A look of concern flashed over his face, purple coated lips almost pouting.

“The clock?” This didn’t seem quite right, but Midnight beamed. 

“Oh god, you had me worried there. You doing ok? Titania hit you pretty hard.” 

“I’m fine?” Cobra was confused. There was something off about the other mage, but he hurt too much to put two and two together.

“You need to stop fighting Cobra, it’s going to be ok now." In a surprisingly tender move for Midnight, he stroked Cobra’s sweaty bangs out of his eyes. Cobra didn’t know what he was supposedly fighting, though it seemed important to Midnight whatever it was.

“I’m tired mid" Cobra slurred, eyes drooping in fatigue.

“You can rest Cobra I'll be here when you wake up.” The illusion mage smiled, sitting beside him. 

That was the last thing that Cobra saw before everything slipped away entirely.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a nightmare with this chapter i have like the entire end few chapters planned but no idea how to get to them lol. I also couldn't think of a name for the oc and now the temp name has stuck 5 points if you knkw were its from 🤣. Anyway as always its beta read by mewsugarpudd

“Why’s Alastor making us drag this asshole half way round the world again?” A disgruntled voice asked.

This was the was the beginning of the conversation that greeted Cobra as he slowly came round.

“For the same reason that he makes us do anything, the drama." The response was irritated. Clearly this wasn’t the first time the men had been inconvenienced.

“He's got the other one back in the lab.” The man on his left sniggered.

“What do you reckon boss is doing to him this time?” The slayer didn’t need to see the speaker’s face to know that he was smirking.

“Hopefully putting the little shit back in his place.” 

“Alastor better not put us on cleaning duty afterward, it took forever last time.” Complained the guard on Cobra’s left.

“Maybe he’ll let us have a crack at him, I can think of lots of ways to make him more compliant.” They shared a laugh at this thought.

The conversation got steadily more graphic as the men went into excruciating detail about what they would do to the other prisoner if they had the chance.

Cobra desperately tried to drown them out. The poison mage couldn’t recall who the men were referring to, yet it sent a jolt of fear through his body at the thought of the other captive suffering.

“Oh shit he’s awake.” Was the last thing that Cobra heard as he was unceremoniously knocked out again.

Cobra felt like he was floating, time having lost all meaning as he drifted through consciousness. He was unaware of what ever the hell had happened to bring him to this point. To be honest, he wasn’t really aware of much. Every time that he tried to recall a memory, a thick haze descended upon his mind and prevented him from accessing it.

Cobra watched, in his brief snatches of awareness, as vaguely humanoid shapes drifted in and out of his fading vision. The interludes of muttered voices started to come through at this point. These provided a much needed break from only being capable of focussing on the pounding in his skull. Exhaustion seeped into his bones and he yet again let sleep overtake him.

This is how it stayed for an unknown amount of time, Cobra just lying there as he tried to piece together what was going on around him, attempting to catch the fragments of conversation and willing his body to move despite the oppressive feeling in his chest.   
His semi-peaceful existence was shattered as everything clicked into place. 

With a cry, he clawed his way back to humanity, warring against his feelings as he thrashed against his bonds in a desperate attempt to save himself from going back under. 

He gasped for breath, chest heaving as he struggled for oxygen. Every external sensation was too much for him to handle after spending so long with mostly internalised senses. Overwhelmed and disoriented, he frantically tried to process everything at once. A voice cut though his turbulent thoughts, disrupting his efforts.

“Can you hear me?” 

Not trusting his voice, Cobra inclined his head in agreement, but remained silent.

“Do you remember anything ?” The voice was closer this time as a man drifted into his line of sight.

Shaking his head caused his vision to blur alarmingly.

“That’s alright. Your name is Cobra. You were in a bad accident. My name is Alastor and we’re going to help you, ok?” 

Cobra wasn’t sure know why but he trusted the man’s voice. He nodded once again, this time tentatively so as to not further aggravate his swimming vision.

Smiling, the man began undoing the restraints on his arms.

“Sorry about the shackles, but we were worried that you would hurt yourself again in confusion.” Alastor stated, gesturing to Cobra’s bandaged arms.

“Think you can sit up now?” 

The slayer didn’t respond verbally, he just slowly attempted to heave his aching body up into a sitting position.

“There you go,” Alastor smiled gently at him. “I suppose that you must be thirsty, you’ve been unconscious for 3 days.”

The man reached for a glass from the nearby night stand. Cobra bobbed his head eagerly in response as his mouth was as dry as sandpaper.

Slowly taking the outstretched glass, he took cautious sips, hands shaking with the effort.

“I suppose that now you’re awake you will be discharged soon.” Alastor mused.

Still not up to speaking, Cobra tipped his head in acknowledgment.

“As soon as Wraith is patched up, you’ll be back to training together in no time.” The man gleefully informed him.

“Who’s Wraith?” Cobra inquired, voice strained from disuse. 

“Well, he’s only your partner, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten?” Alastor’s tone was far too theatrical for such a question. 

Frowning in concentration, Cobra shook his head. He couldn’t remember who this ‘Wraith’ was supposed to be.

“Well this just won’t do. I guess that I can take you to him.” Alastor grinned.

“Ok.” Cobra responded, not really knowing why this seemed to be a priority for the other man. 

This was how Cobra found himself leaning on the taller man’s shoulder - being half dragged - in search of his so-called partner. 

It thankfully didn’t take long before they reached another hospital room. Alastor opened the door and bustled him inside.

“Wraith, you awake?” The man all but skipped to the bed, leaving Cobra standing awkwardly by the door.

Shuffling further into the room, Cobra took in the sight of the room’s only occupant.

Sitting up in the bed was a man who looked worse the Cobra felt. 

A thick bandage was wrapped round his head and various other dressings were scattered about what little the mage could see of their body.

“Look who’s re-joined the land of the living.” Alastor’s joyful tone rang out.

Red eyes met purple as the two stared at each other, both unsure about what to say. Their awkward silence didn’t seem to be a problem though as Alastor chimed in.

“As you can see, your last mission didn’t go quite to plan,” Alastor sighed, “You’re going to have to up your training after this, we almost lost you.” 

Cobra still didn’t remember what happened on this supposed last mission but he assumed that it had involved a head injury if his amnesia was anything to go by.

He didn’t know what to do as Alastor rambled on. Although, he wasn’t the only the one not paying attention. Wraith’s eyes had not left his. 

“So, Cobra, has this jogged your memories?”   
Cobra shook his head, he still had no recollection of the man in front of him.

“That’s a shame. I hope that this doesn’t affect how well you work together.” 

The man exhaled dramatically.


End file.
